


handle with care

by PaintedVanilla



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Gift Giving, Healing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-14 15:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18950584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaintedVanilla/pseuds/PaintedVanilla
Summary: “Crowley, the strangest thing just happened—”“You’re telling me.”





	handle with care

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dvldegg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dvldegg/gifts).



> based on [this deleted scene included in the script book, which you might want to read first if you haven't already.](https://dykeiel.tumblr.com/post/185109464777/this-has-the-scene-where-crowley-brings-chocolates) it caused me to collapse onto the floor in a mess of gay feelings and had me quickly scrambling for my laptop. enjoy.

The bell above the door dings again, and Aziraphale peels his attention away from the medal hanging around his neck, to Crowley, who is sauntering into the newly established bookshop looking very pleased with himself. Aziraphale relaxes when he sees him, turning to face him.

“Crowley,” he says, “the strangest thing just happened—”

“You’re telling me,” Crowley says; he sets the package down on the counter and leans against it. “They wanted to stick bloody _Michael_ on me? Just the thought makes me gag. If they’d stuck me toe to toe with Michael I’d have discorporated myself and gotten a desk job.”

“You wouldn’t have,” Aziraphale says knowingly.

“No, I wouldn’t have,” Crowley agrees; he looks around the empty shop, almost seeming to admire it, then looks pointedly away from Aziraphale. “Would’ve missed you, though.”

Aziraphale softens, stepping forward and giving him a kiss on the cheek. Crowley shrugs him off, still not looking at him, but it’s hard to hide the hint of a smile on his face. Aziraphale slides around to the other side of the counter. “It truly was the oddest thing. You saw them, I mean, and you know how they can be. They were _insistent,_ and then they just let it go! Said I could keep the medal and my shop and be about my business.”

“You’ve got me to thank for that,” Crowley says smugly, grinning at him over his shoulder. He turns so he’s leaning, facing Aziraphale, and then replicates the voice he’d used earlier. _“They do say as to how the angel Aziraphale, your nemesis, is being sent back to Heaven.”_

Crowley switches to his own voice, putting a hand on his forehead as though he were faint with excitement. “Can this be true? I was going to swallow Holy Water in despair at once more being beaten by the angel Aziraphale!”

The angel in question, who is grinning at him broadly, shoves him lightly from the other side of the counter. “Oh, come off it. Was that your doing? Truly?”

“Gabriel isn’t exactly the sharpest spade in the shed,” Crowley says with a wicked grin.

Aziraphale nods tersely. “"Sometimes I find your methods of expression very odd.”

“He’s an idiot,” Crowley says bluntly. “Mistook a dummy for a Lord of Hell.”

He lowers his voice and leans closer. “Not that there’s much of a difference.”

Aziraphale laughs, and Crowley admirers him for a moment before sliding the package he’d set down closer to him. “This is for you.”

“Oh, thank you, dear boy,” Aziraphale says, his cheeks still flushed slightly. He pulls the package closer and starts to open it. “Chocolates, you said?”

“And maybe something else,” Crowley says vaguely; he pushes off the counter and wanders over to the shelves. There’s nothing to inspect, seeing as they’re empty, but they’ll soon be very full, and he tries to imagine the shop crammed full of Aziraphale’s collection. It puts a smile on his face.

Indeed, under the chocolates, is another parcel, wrapped delicately in protective paper. Aziraphale unwraps it and gasps, turning it over in his hands and looking at it with wide eyes. “Crowley, is this—?”

“I believe it’s called the Standing Fishes Bible,” Crowley says. “I didn’t get a terribly good look at it. Hard to skim, you understand. It’s an original, yeah?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale breathes, examining it closely. “Where on Earth did you find it? It’s one of the few I’m missing.”

Crowley makes a noncommittal noise.

Aziraphale continues. “It’s in phenomenal condition, too. Did you find it like this?”

Crowley shrugs. “Some mild restorations done by the shop owner. A few more by me. I left in the part about the standing fishes. Resisted changing any of the text. Even kept myself from drawing a phallus on page sixty-nine.”

Aziraphale gives him an unimpressed look.

Something occurs to him suddenly. “Crowley, let me see your hands.”

“Huh?” Crowley asks, finally peeling his attention away from the very uninteresting bookshelf, which has already managed to gather an impressive amount of dust.

“Your hands,” Aziraphale repeats. “Let me see them.”

“Oh,” Crowley says, waving his hand flippantly. “Don’t worry about it, angel.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale says. “Come here.”

Crowley walks back to the counter despite his protests. “It’s not a big deal, they’re all mostly gone now.”

Aziraphale takes his hands in his, inspecting them. They’re both covered in a smattering of blisters, most of which seem to have burst and are taking their sweet time healing. The sort of burns that came from Holy Items usually aren’t very forgiving, and when demons try to heal them, it only tends to make it worse, which is probably why Crowley’s blisters have burst.

Crowley doesn’t seem terribly bothered by it, even though they must be terribly irritating. “S’really not that big of a deal.”

“Crowley, you’ve got blisters all over your hands,” Aziraphale says; he presses his hands together and holds them between his own.

Crowley winces slightly at the friction. “Angel, it’s not about the burns, it’s about the gift.”

“I’m very thankful for the gift,” Aziraphale murmurs, “but I should like to see to it that you don’t harm yourself trying to make me happy.”

He lets go of his hands; the blisters are gone. Crowley flexes them both for a moment, then drops them to his sides. “Thanks, I guess.”

Aziraphale comes around the counter next to him. “Thank you for the book, Crowley. It will make an excellent addition to my collection. It was very thoughtful of you, you sweet little—”

“Oh, tell the whole blessed world,” Crowley groans.

The added bonus of Aziraphale pulling him into a kiss, is that it hides Crowley’s smile.  


End file.
